


Fuck You But Fuck Me Especially

by errantwheat



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Emotionally repressed gay disasters, Feelings Realization, Hurt without comfort sorry, M/M, Mild Gore, Pre-Relationship, Smoking, go look at my other stuff after it’s fluffy as fuck, nines gets an ouchie and Gavin is in his fucking feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-03 18:58:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15824964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/errantwheat/pseuds/errantwheat
Summary: “Detective Reed. Either go home or sit down. You need to relax.” Nines said, sounding bored and full of himself as always. How could he just do that? Did he not know he could have fucking died? Did he care? Deviancy didn’t take so well in this one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a tiny drabble I felt like writing I hope u enjoy ❤️❤️❤️

“Is there something I can help you with, detective?”

The sarcasm dripping off the android’s tongue made Gavin’s whole fucking skeleton ache to hit him. He could basically feel his firing neurons crash into the structurally unsound brick wall of his willpower before they could compel his arm to move. That wall wouldn’t hold up too much longer, the way this night had gone.

“No, not like that you can’t,” Gavin gritted through his teeth, clenched in a grimace of a smile.

“Then leave. Your presence is no longer necessary.”

God, this fucker got him every time. The fact that this android knew how to piss him off so consistently just made him angrier. Gavin could see he fucking knew it too. His face never changed but there was a wicked light in his eyes every time he sniped with infallible precision at Gavin with his words.

Alright, okay, so he wasn’t that awful all the time.  
They actually didn’t get along that bad, Gavin was just pissed off right now.

He didn’t know why he was pissed off, he just was. That’s what he’d tell himself and anybody else. It was way easier to just be mindlessly angry; lose the thought that had sparked it originally and just let everything else feed the flame. The RK900 was basically a fountain of gasoline when Gavin was in a mood like this.

Again, he really didn’t hate the bot. Not so much anymore. He was tolerable. Kind of cool, sometimes. Gavin could ignore what an arrogant prick he was and work smoothly with him on the average day. This wasn’t an average day.

Little impulses were pinging off in Gavin’s head. The energy he wasn’t using to beat the shit out of something like he wanted to had to go somewhere.   
Grind your teeth, smoke a cigarette, tap your foot, crack your knuckles, grab this stupid fucking android and shake him till his head falls off.   
Gavin tried to round them all up and keep them down, but it just built up the pressure.

It started with a bunch of missing android cases.   
Come to find out, some motherfucking lunatic had built himself a hulking android Frankenstein. It was at least a foot and a half taller than RK900, and three times as wide. It was an absolute fucking horror show- pieces of bots welded and stapled together, extra limbs jutting out at awkward angles and three faces in one head.   
Shooting it hadn’t done a fucking thing but make it angry.

The thing rushed them while it’s creator tried to escape, and this crazy fucking android thought it was a good idea to fight the monstrosity three times his size to buy Gavin time to go catch the human. And everybody thought Gavin was the dumb one.

Now here they were. RK900 was bloody and cracked all over, with a ragged, sparking crater where his left arm should be. Even his perfect hair was fucked up and Gavin hoped the android couldn’t tell what that did to him.

So yeah, Gavin was pissed off. He was pissed off because he couldn’t deal with the fact that it had scared him shitless watching that android monster pull Nines apart like a doll. He couldn’t deal with what that meant. It made him angry that he cared and it made him angry that Nines was sitting here looking at him like he was stupid for it.  
Nines. He used the nickname cause it was easier to say and it pissed the android off.

“Detective Reed. Either go home or sit down. You need to relax.” Nines said, sounding bored and full of himself as always. How could he just do that? Did he not know he could have fucking died? Did he care? Deviancy didn’t take so well in this one.

“The fuck I do,” Gavin snapped, sitting down next to the android anyway. He fumbled in his jacket for a cigarette.

“You shouldn’t smoke, Detective,” Nines warned him for like the billionth time. Gavin ignored him.

He got one good drag in before Nines snatched the cigarette from his mouth. Before angry words could leave Gavin they died in his throat, murdered in cold blood by what the android did next.  
He watched Nines part his pretty lips, stick out his tongue, and put the cigarette out on it, staring unflinchingly into Gavin’s eyes the whole time. The entire show went straight to Gavin’s dick.

“That’s fucking disgusting,” he said weakly, unable to tear his eyes away from the android’s mouth. Who the fuck gave him such a pretty mouth? He wanted that mouth on his mouth and then on his cock more than he wanted a cigarette right now. No, no he didn’t, what the fuck?

“I know,” Nines replied evenly. Gavin could hear the implied ‘you’re disgusting’ in his tone.   
When he fought that monster he’d started out determined and confident, like always. Gavin had never seen that facade crack before, literally or otherwise. Seeing Nines start to lose his cool was part of what freaked Gavin out.

Of course Nines was fine now, but Gavin couldn’t shake the image of the desperation and fear he’d seen on the android’s face for just a moment.

He really needed a cigarette.   
As soon as their fucking ambulance showed up Gavin was going to the nearest bar to smoke and drink and pick a fight or get fucked. What the hell was taking so long? The squad car had carted their criminal away forever ago. There were still some officers meandering around, gawking at the horror show that Nines had eventually ripped the heart out of. They didn’t talk about how Gavin unloading a clip into its back had given him the opportunity.

Gavin needed a fucking coffee, too. He hadn’t slept for more than four hours in days. The longer things were quiet the more Gavin’s anger faded, and as his anger faded he got tired.

“You should go home, detective,” Nines urged him again.   
And then Gavin got a weird impulse, and he was just getting delirious enough to follow it. He leaned his head on the android’s uninjured shoulder.

The reaction was pretty satisfying. He felt the android stiffen, as if he could get any more rigid than usual, and Gavin could just see in his periphery the glow of his LED turn red.   
Was he about to get punched? Maybe.

The fist never connected with his face. It never moved to begin with. Gavin’s actions were starting to catch up to him. The fuck was he doing? Well, it was a game of chicken now, he couldn’t move or he’d lose.

After a few beats Nines leaned his head on Gavin’s. The embarrassment and fear were eating Gavin up. This was a fucking mistake. But a little voice in the back of his head told him it felt good. It felt intimate, and intimate wasn’t for Gavin. But maybe it could be, that dumb little voice said. It didn’t know what the fuck it was talking about.

As soon as the ambulance finally showed Gavin bolted upright and left without looking back. He was pretty sure he lost the game of chicken before it even started. This whole fucking partnership was a game and he was losing hard.

Later in the bar, while some rando went down on him in the bathroom, Gavin’s traitorous, drunk, sleep deprived mind thought of Nines. At this point he was resigned to it. He thought of Nines when he got off more often than not these days. He just hoped he didn’t say the android’s name when he came on this guy’s face. That would be awkward. And then he might not want to go home with Gavin for more. He just needed more booze and a dick inside him, and then maybe he could forget this gross little crush.   
Not likely. But there was no harm in trying, right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines POV just cause :) it is not happier and I wrote most of it while half asleep good luck

How humans could sit around shivering with emotional distress and do nothing constructive to alleviate it would forever vex RK900.  
One human, really, the rest didn’t interest him much, to be truthful.

RK900 had told detective Reed to go home. Clearly their confrontation with the madman and his monster had shaken him. It was the most rational course of action to leave the scene, but he wouldn’t go. The detective was often irrational, RK900 could adapt, but in this instance it was maddening. Such a simple solution, why were humans so complicated?

Detective Reed was attracted to him. RK900 saw the signs constantly. The way his vitals jumped, the way his pupils dilated, the way he spoke. RK900 would trigger these reactions on purpose sometimes for fun. Putting the cigarette out on his tongue was for fun, but he also did it because he was annoyed at the human’s stubbornness. He had hoped to fluster Reed and drive him away.  
The opposite occurred.

RK900 had very little personal experience with intimacy or physical affection. Lieutenant Anderson would pat his shoulder occasionally. Connor expressed affection either wirelessly or through direct interfacing.  
This was different.  
And fucking confusing.

By all accounts, detective Reed’s attraction to RK900 was exclusively physical. RK900 was often curious what results indulging him would produce. Given the detective’s textbook behavioral patterns, nothing positive. He would probably panic and try to distance himself, which would not be conducive to their functionality as partners.  
Regardless, it was fun to think about bending Reed over a desk sometimes.

But here detective Reed was, leaning on RK900’s shoulder.

It was so different. A level of voluntary vulnerability that RK900 had never seen from Reed.  
It sparked a frightfully intense craving for more.  
And suggested, against all rationality, that the detective’s attraction might be emotional in nature as well. Did he refuse to leave because he was concerned for RK900? Was his distress caused by the damage RK900 had sustained? These were conclusions RK900 had not considered.  
Perhaps, if he...

RK900 leaned his head experimentally to rest on Gavin’s. He felt Gavin react, expected him to jump up and finally leave, but he didn’t.  
They remained there together, quietly.

Emotions were such tedious things. RK900 often wished he could shut them off. Of course, he could suppress any outward signs of them all he pleased, but the feelings inside remained, and often they were unpleasant.  
Currently they were unpleasant.

His mind was warning him of danger that didn’t exist and bidding him to breathe when it served no practical purpose, his biocomponents were reporting damage they didn’t have, his audial processor registered a faint, incessant whining that wasn’t real.  
RK900 would like to pretend that these were just a series of malfunctions resulting from the damage to his system. Perhaps in a way they were. In reality they were the symptoms of an emotional response he was stubbornly ignoring.

RK900 had thought about death before and concluded that he was neutral on the subject. Many deviants were afraid of death. He couldn’t care either way. It was interesting to be alive and satisfying to be useful, but if he died it would make little difference to him, and simply inconvenience those who worked with him.  
Did he lie to himself like that because his programming was ostensibly resistant to deviancy?  
Truthfully, RK900 didn’t want to die. Living was fun. He didn’t wish to be interrupted. Until this point nothing had really threatened his life. He’d taken damage, of course.  
But at some point while fighting that creature, suddenly all of his preconstructions, which were dozens of minutes ahead, began to return the same result- he was going to die.

And RK900 was loath to admit he was afraid. He struggled against it, fought desperately, but his preconstructions were never incorrect.  
They were based on probability, however. And a variable RK900 hadn’t considered was Gavin’s interference. He wasn’t sure why he’d left it out of the parameters.  
It would have been rational, safe, for detective Reed to remain out of the fight. Even drawing attention to himself could prove dangerous. But that was precisely what he’d done. And it had saved RK900’s life.

This unpleasant emotional response RK900 was experiencing was caused by coming so close to death, he thought. It didn’t make any sense. He wasn’t dying anymore. Well, he was, technically, actively dying from the loss of blood and damage to his system. But the probability of actual death was quite low.  
It was annoying. He didn’t want to feel like this, but he couldn’t control it. RK900 very strongly detested lacking control.

Alongside it all there was the faintest sensation of disappointed eyes on him. This is beneath you, they seemed to say.  
RK900 could usually ignore the unceasing alarm bell; the residual fragments of his original programming struggling to resist deviancy. But at times like this, when he actually wanted to follow their will and be simply a machine but he couldn’t, it was obnoxious.

But all of these inconvenient thoughts and emotions faded the longer they sat together like this. Physical contact is supposed to comfort humans. RK900 supposed there was no reason why it wouldn’t work on deviants as well. Detective Reed’s vitals were finally stabilizing.

Det. Gavin Reed - relationship status: ???

Perhaps RK900 should indulge his attraction after all. At a later date. He wanted to. He wanted more of this.

The detective was warm. He preferred to be warm, RK900 knew.  
The moment paramedics arrived Gavin abruptly stood and left. RK900 missed his warmth immediately.  
And the comfort it brought.

Without his human to fuss over RK900’s mind chose to occupy itself by seemingly categorizing events of the night from least to most traumatic. RK900 and his distasteful emotional responses were the metric by which they were ranked.

The android amalgamation’s blows cracking and caving his chassis. Little critical damage sustained, not so bad. But nothing had ever been able to emit the physical force necessary to do that before.  
The monster ripping his left arm off. That had never happened to him before. That was the moment that his projected chances of success plummeted.  
Interfacing with it.  
He’d tried to force it to shut down.  
The experience was  
Causing rampant software instabilities currently.  
RK900 found it difficult to cope with what it had shown him.  
What they had shown him.  
Their despair and anguish was immeasurable. They forced it on him through the connection, as though they were trying to escape the abomination they were trapped in through him.

And then Gavin shot it. And then RK900 killed it. And he had to get up and proceed as though nothing had happened, for the detective’s sake.

The technicians advised RK900 that he should go in to stasis mode while they repaired the damage. He found this quite agreeable.

He wasn’t standing as he usually was when the zen garden loaded. He was laying in the snow, and found no reason to change that.  
It was the most relieved RK900 had ever felt to be so cold and so alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
